


Avatar: The Tale of Tarrlok

by DecimatedOddity



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Rape, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecimatedOddity/pseuds/DecimatedOddity
Summary: "That's the saddest story I've ever heard," was Korra’s response. And Tarrlok only told her the essentials. He’d left out the gory details of his childhood to spare her. This is rest of Tarrlok’s story. This is his tale.





	Avatar: The Tale of Tarrlok

**Author's Note:**

> ...this one is f*cked up. I just stumbled across it after several months, almost a year. I wrote it and abandoned it because I honestly wasn't sure if I should post it or not because like… I scared myself with this one guys. But after reading over it a year later I'm like, eh… I've read worse. Let's share it! :D Read at your own discretion. Comments and criticisms are thoroughly welcomed.

We discovered we were benders when we I was seven and my brother ten. We were out penguin sledding and I fell into a pit of sparsely packed snow and broke my ankle. Noatak panicked and used the snow to pull me out of the hole. He then carried me a half a mile home where my mother had one of the local healers mend my broken bone. She praised Noatak for saving me, kissing and hugging him. She'd cooked his favorite meal that night. My father seemed more excited to know that his older son was a bender, than he was to know that I would be okay.

The healer had instructed me to stay off the ankle for a few days, that it was completely healed but still tender. My father ignored her. Despite my mother's adamant argument that I needed rest, he took my brother and me out into a snowy field the very next morning. He told me if Noatak could bend, then I probably could as well.

It started out as a cheerful snowball fight between a father and his sons. I was expected to deflect the attacks with bending like my brother did. But before long my father grew frustrated with my failure. Noatak courageously defended me. He ensured our father that I was trying, but maybe I simply wasn't a bender.

"Some siblings get bending abilities while others don't," he said desperately, hoping to placate our enraged father. "It happens all the time."

But that wasn't enough for our father. The playful fight quickly became humiliating torture. He pelted me with snowball after snowball until I was drenched in melting snow and tears. Noatak  _begged_  him to stop. He groveled, pleading at our father's feet.

"Stop, father,  _please!_ " Noatak wept, looking up at our father from his knees. "This isn't working! He isn't a bender! Can't you see?" But his pleas were useless. Our father continued his shower of snowballs, some of them containing solid ice, until one of the harder ones struck me in the eye. I screamed in agony and accidentally sent him flying across the field in a flurry of snow and water.

Noatak stared at me with wide, wet eyes as I stared at our soaring father. He screamed through the air, arms and legs flailing, landing in a heap  _yards_  away. When he rose to his feet, there was no anger or aggression from my attack, only elation that both of his sons were benders.

When we'd returned home, our father lied to our mother. He told her that I'd obtained the scratches and bruises after falling down a flight of ice steps when my ankle gave out. She'd launched into a rant about how she'd  _told_  him I needed rest. That had he simply  _listened_ to her, none of it—Then my father struck her for the first time in my memory. A hard smack, the back of his hand to her face, sending my mother to the floor with a loud shriek.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again, woman," he snarled down at her. Mother coward and spluttered her apologies, then she'd scooped me up and rushed me off to the healer again.

§

That night was an unusually cold night, even for the North pole. Noatak and I were bundled up together when I woke in the middle of night with something hard pressing into my leg.

It was Noatak's penis.

I nudged him awake with my elbow. "Noah, wake up," I whispered. "Noah!"

"Huh?" He snapped awake and mumbled sleepily.

"Roll over," I told him, indignantly. "Your  _boner_  is pressing into my leg."

He flushed a deep red in the dark room. "I'm sorry…" He clumsily flipped over, making sure our backs were still pressed together for warmth. It was then that we heard the whispering and muffled moaning.

"Mngh... Ugnh…. Oh my  _God…_ "

High pitched, feminine. That was definitely or mother.

"Ugh…  _yes_ …" Deeper, masculine. That was our father. "I know I said it before," he panted. "But I  _promise_  I won't do it again. I  _mean_  it this time. I love you too much."

"Mngh…  _Ungh._ I love you too." Then there was sounds of wet kisses. Noatak seemed to put the pieces together just when I did. We trembled together in disgust.

"Just be quiet and go back to sleep," Noah whispered. But I couldn't. Not with their sex sounds rolling across me as thick as the cold northern air. And I could tell from the way Noah was breathing into my back that he wasn't asleep either. The two of us simply lay there in disgusted silence, until my father let out a relatively loud grunt and everything grew quiet.

§

Over the next few days, our father obeyed our mother and I stayed off my ankle. My father took Noatak away everyday and they trained in bending. When Mother finally relented, Father took me along with him and trained Noah and me together.

Mother knew that he was training us. He would take us out in front of the house in the early mornings where he was gentle and understanding with us, a pretense for Mother's eyes. She would smile out the window, bringing us cups of tea. Surely the deceptively specious man he displayed for her on those mornings was the same man that had ensnared my mother's heart. I was certain that had she known vicious truths that surrounded my father, neither Noatak or I would exist.

And vicious our father indubitably was. On most days he lied to her, told her we were bonding in the fields. It was there that the real training took place. It was vigorous and he was relentless, often beating us—mostly  _me_ , but occasionally Noah—when we didn't catch on quickly enough.

I never argued back. But even when he was being reprimanded himself, Noatak always defended me if he could, begging my father to stop his beatings. When Noah became a prodigy, father solely beat him instead of me and made me watch. Whenever I made an error, he would beat Noah.

"This will teach you," he told me. "And it'll teach  _you,"_ he told Noah. "To help  _me_  instead of him. If you want to stop the beatings then you'll get your brother to shape up quickly."

After that I tried harder. But try as I may, I still struggled. Bending simply did not come as easily to me as it did to Noah. I didn't want Noatak to be abused over my failures, but he still was. He never blamed me. He just took the belt to his backside bravely.

This continued under Mother's blind eye for years _,_ until I reached eleven, Noah fourteen… and the bloodbending training started. Things got considerably worse. Bloodbending could only be practiced during the full moon and it took me  _months_ to catch on, whereas Noatak got it on his second try. After my fourth failed attempt, after the fourth month, Father officially became a monster in my eyes.

It was a starry night and we were under the moon when I unsuccessfully attempted to bend a yak for the umpteenth time that night. Father look down at me disgracefully with shame and anger in his eyes. Then he slowly removed his belt.

" _Please_ , father!" I cried. "Don't hurt him! I'll get it right!" I tried again, and again, failing each time while father grabbed a wide-eyed fearful Noatak.

" _This_ will teach you," he snarled at me. Father ripped Noah's pants down, exposing his private areas to the world, to the cold arctic air. Then he flung him into the snow on his stomach.

"Father?!" Noah cried, scrambling onto his back. "What are you—"

"Lie on your stomach boy!" Father brutally kicked Noah in the side, and he groaned in pain, rolling back over in silent compliance.

"It appears that simple discipline isn't sufficient," Father told me ominously. "Clearly the situation demands more...  _strenuous_  methods." The look he gave me sent a chill down my spine in a way that the cool northern air never could. "You  _will_ succeed. Or from this day forward, Noatak will be punished in this way." And father swiftly snatched his own pants down and shoved his thick manhood inside my brother.

Noah cried out in agony while our father relentlessly forced his fully grown penis into his son's undersized backside. I could only watch in frozen horror as Noah took another punishment that should've been mine.

He clutched at the snow in tears while Father thrusted into him roughly, their skin smacking together. His massive appendage stretched Noah's tiny teenage boy hole open to unbelievable proportions, the long shaft disappearing over and over again. And though his hands gripped my brother's firm little round cheeks, spreading them to ease his brutal entry, inadvertently allowing me to see the fat rod stretch my brother open, Father's eyes never left mine. He watched me intently while he pounded Noah, so that I would know it was  _all my fault._

The next month when I inevitably failed again, father made  _me_  rape Noatak instead. He made Noah get on his back, open his legs, and made me shove my eleven year old penis inside of him. He made us look into each other's eyes while I did it.

I was ashamed, disgusted that it felt good, that I wanted to keep stroking. He was so warm and tight around me, his walls clutching at me in a way I'd never experienced before. I was devastated by the tears in his eyes, that my first sexual encounter was with my older brother.

I climaxed anyway, hard and deep inside of him.

From then on, rape was the only form of punishment our father inflicted. Noatak stopped crying about it. He would simply lay there placidly accepting it, the occasional wince breaking through his solidity. Father either raped Noah himself or he made me do it. Noah and I never knew which was coming. I didn't know which was worse, watching our father ruthlessly rape his son, or being forced to do it myself.

And there was always an opportunity for him to make me do it because I  _always_  failed at something. Whenever I was fortunate enough to succeed at one thing, Father would introduce a new technique for me to struggle with. When I finally mastered bloodbending, we started doing it without the full moon.

I failed. More. And was forced to rape my brother.  _More_. Forced to shove myself into the warm, gripping channel that made me feel so many different conflicting emotions. My brother's tight insides would always pull me to orgasm and I'd spill within him. It was degrading for the both of us. Even more so when Father began to make Noatak do the work. He would make me lie on my back and Noah would sit on me, an even  _more_  degrading position, because Noah couldn't just lay there like he usually did. He had to put in effort. He had to ride me, arch his back and bounce on my shaft.

And to add to the humiliation, Noah got hard in that position. He actually came along with me when I released myself inside him. The moans we emitted from the feel of each other were deplorable. I knew that he  _hated_  himself for it, hated himself for enjoying it, just as I hated myself for enjoying it. Father knew it too. And he made Noah do all the work from that day forward. Even when he was involved himself.

Before long, Noah road us without any visible display of pain. He simply rocked on us with his hard member thumping freely while he did so. He would always orgasm. Sometimes more than once I'd my father didn't finish first. And he would always be ashamed of himself afterwards.

When I finally mastered moonless bloodbending, we moved on to mental bloodbending and things finally reached a boiling point. Of coarse Noatak picked it up immediately. Then Father told Noah to bloodbend me.

It was excruciating. It felt like someone had reached inside me to tug at every fiber of my being, snatching them around as they pleased. I couldn't move anything. Noatak completely controlled me.

"Well done, son." I sucked in a long sharp breath and fell to my knees when Noah released me. It felt as if I'd been seconds from drowning and had just received a relieving breath of fresh air.

"On your feet, Tarrlok. Bloodbend your brother."

"No! That was terrible!" I could still feel the agonizing clutches on my muscles. I didn't want to do that Noah. I didn't want to do that to  _anybody._ It's that what we'd been doing to the yaks all these years? What cruelty. "I don't want  _anyone_  to experience that."

Father scowled. "You dare defy me? I give you  _everything_  and you defy me?" When Father slowly removed his belt, I knew what was coming.

"Please, Father! Don't hurt him!"

"You  _will_  obey me." Father gripped my forearm hard enough to bruise and pulled his pants down his thighs with his other hand, his large member dangling before me, long, thick and veiny. I stared up at him, terrified. Father roughly spun me around and snatched my pants down, throwing me in the snow.

"No, Father!" Noatak screamed, horrified. "Do it to me! Please!"

Our father ignored him. I screamed a scream that ripped at my throat when he breached me. It was terrible. Is this what we'd been doing to Noah all this time? Is this the pain he had suffered? I could feel Father, deep inside me, stretching me open.

"You are a  _disgrace_ , a  _weakling,_ " he growled in my ear. "I will teach you to never defy me again!" Then things got infinitely worse when he pulled out and slammed back into me. I thought it was painful at first. It was  _nothing_ compared to what I felt now. Father was so huge. How did he fit? He felt like he was ripping me open, like it was his forearm inside of me instead of his penis.

"Father,  _please!_ " Noah begged, groveling the snow. "Do it to  _me,_ instead!" But Father continued his cruel administrations, forcing his long shaft inside of me. I tried to find the piece of this that Noah found climactic. It had to feel nice if it brought him to completion. Right? But there was no pleasure, only blunt sharp pain, and the constant sensation of being stuffed.

Then quite suddenly he was no longer inside of me, he was writhing in the snow next to me, his stiff cock softening in the cool air. Noatak was Bloodbending him. Something seemed to have finally snapped inside my brother. He could tolerate the torture himself, could withstand it happening to him all these years, but he couldn't bare one second of it happening to me.

" _Stay away_  from him." Noah looked murderous. I had never seen this side of him before. I lay there terrified, watching him torture our father. " _You're_ the weak one. You always say that bloodbending is the most powerful thing in the world, but it's not. The  _avatar_ is. He took your  _bending_ away _._ What's more powerful than that?"

"I made you what you  _are!_ " Father grunted through the pain, twitching at Noatak's feet. "You are  _mine!"_

"We're your  _sons,"_  Noah spat. "Not your tools for revenge." He abruptly turned to me.

"Let's go. We can run away from him.  _Forever_."

"Run away? But what about mom? We can't just  _leave_ her."

For the first time in his life, Noah snarled at me. He looked at me as if I were filth under his shoes. "Father was right. You  _are_ a weakling." And with one final strike to our father, Noah vanished into the blizzard.


End file.
